There it is: a lone boot on the sidewalk.

The garden workers gather in a dark knot of concern.

We are out for a walk, my husband and I,

Keeping up my strength on this rare, gray California day,

Uneventful, save for that boot, and the flashing lights.

The woman of the house (perfect blonde ponytail),

Speaks with the (young, white) foreman,

The jagged branch from one of her freshly groomed trees

Standing as witness and accused.

As we pass, I turn to see the sole of the matching boot,

Still on its owner, in the ambulance, and motionless.

So we stop there on the sidewalk, my husband and I,

And pray the only way we know how:

Loving everyone present,

And wondering what we can do for our brother.